Sleeping Beauty (47 page)

Ben hurries to the bench, whispering to the judge. “Agreed,” she says. She turns to a bailiff. “Call fire and rescue and ask for an emergency standby to be here in five minutes.” Then she turns to the clerk and motions to the witness box.

I see the difficulty: with the broken leg sticking out, there’s no way to fit Davin’s wheelchair inside the box. After a brief conference with the judge, they manage to pull him into the box diagonally, the clerk bending the microphone own until it’s right in front of Davin’s mouth.

Ben asks the standard questions of Davin–name, address, place of employment, then he gets right to it. “Mr. Wibbens, what is your relationship to Ms. Beau?”

“She’s been a friend for five years.” His voice is papery, like an old man’s. He must hear it himself, because he vigorously clears his throat, the sound of it magnified by the microphone. He belatedly covers his mouth. “Sorry,” he mutters.

“Take your time, Mr. Wibbens.” Ben returns to the defense table and pours a glass of water from a pitcher. “Let me know when you’re ready to continue,” he says, handing the glass to Davin.

Davin takes a gulp. “I’m good,” he says, his voice a little stronger now.

“How did you meet Ms. Beau?”

“I dated her brother.”

“Her brother, West Beau?”

“Yes.”

“Was your relationship with her brother serious?”

“Yes.”

“Did the two of you live together?”

“No.”

“You had separate apartments?”

“That’s right.”

“And are you still dating Ms. Beau’s brother?”

“No.”

“When did your relationship with him end?”

“We broke up in May.”

“Were you aware that Ms. Beau had an illness called Klein-Levin Syndrome?”

“I knew she had something wrong with her, yeah. It started when I was dating her brother. The KLS diagnosis didn’t come until May.”

“Did you ever take part in caring for Claire while she was, ah, incapacitated?”

“Yes.”

“In what way did you care for her?”

“I stayed with her when I could, kept her house clean.” He sighs, as if the sentence is just too long for him to finish in one breath. “Cooked for her when she was awake.”

“Was it possible for you and her brother to always be there when she was afflicted?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“I had to work during the day. West had to play with his band at night. Most of the time she was out of it was covered by one of us, but there were times when neither of us could be there.”

“Was this a source of worry for the two of you?”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

Davin pushes against the arms of the wheelchair, trying to straighten himself. He takes a deep breath. “Because Claire would sometimes wake up and walk around. She could sometimes come off as mostly normal, even when she was still in the middle of an episode. We were worried that she would try to leave her apartment, or that someone would break in and hurt her.”

“Mr. Wibbens, were you ever present when Ms. Beau entered one of her Klein-Levin episodes?”

“Yes.”

“How many times were you present?”

“She’s had four episodes. I was there at the start of two of them.”

“Dr. Charmant and others have testified during this trial that individuals with Klein-Levin Syndrome often display signs of hypersexuality. Did Ms. Beau ever exhibit any signs of hypersexuality while you were present?”

“Yes.”

“And when did these bouts of hypersexuality typically occur?”

“Typically? Right when she was entering an episode.”

“And how were you able to determine what you were seeing?”

“What do you mean?”

“In what way would Ms. Beau behave that would lead you to believe that she was experiencing a bout of hypersexuality?”

Davin shifts in the wheelchair. “She would, uh, try to come on to guys, you know, without knowing what she was doing.”

“So you’re saying that Ms. Beau would make sexual advances on men during an onset of hypersexuality?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Did she ever make sexual advances on you as a result of her Klein Levin Syndrome?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you respond when this happened?”

“Well, it was a shock, you know, and I would just sort of push her away. Usually there was someone else around–West or one of Claire’s friends–and they would pull her off, take her to another room or something.”

“And you said you were present at the beginning of
two
of Ms. Beau’s episodes, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“So you found yourself the, uh, target of Ms. Beau’s unintentional advances
twice
, is that correct?”

Davin frowns. “No, three times.”

“
Three
times?” Ben shakes his head, like he’s going to need to rustle up a calculator just to sort out the complicated math. “When did the
third
time occur?”

“In May, during her last episode.”

“
During
an episode?”

“Yes.”

“Had this ever happened before? A bout of hypersexuality
during
one of Ms. Beau’s episodes, and not at the
beginning
of it?”

“Not that I ever knew about.”

Both Rev and I know this is a complete lie. We don’t look at each other, but I think both of us stop breathing at this point.

“And who was present when this happened?”

“It was just me and Claire.”

“And how many days had she been in this current episode, the one in May?”

“About five days.”

“About how many days after she left the sleep lab did this occur?”

He shrugs. “I can’t remember exactly. Two or three.”

“And where was Ms. Beau at the time that this happened?”

“She was on the couch at her apartment. We were both on the couch watching a movie.”

“Did she appear alert and coherent at the time?”

“Well, yeah.” He stops, thinking. “She’d just started the new medications. Other than sleeping a lot longer than she normally would, she seemed herself personality-wise. The best any of us had seen her during an episode.”

“And you were on the couch when Ms. Beau was struck with a bout of hypersexuality, correct?”

“Yes.”

“What did she do?”

“She started kissing me and, you know, sort of holding on to me.”

“In what way was she holding on to you?”

Davin glances at the bailiff standing nearby, no doubt praying that the guy has some serious cat-life reflexes in the event that Brendan has a violent reaction to what’s coming next. Thankfully, West isn’t here today, but Brendan has no choice but to sit at the defense table, the ultimate captive audience, and listen. Makes me glad that I can only see the back of his head.

Davin searches the row behind the defense table, uncertainty clouding his face when his eyes find mine.

I nod, just once, hoping he understands me.
It’s okay
.

“Mr. Wibbins?”

Davin’s attention turns back to Ben.

“In what way was Ms. Beau holding on to you?”

“She had her arms around my neck.”

“Draped around your neck?”

He shakes his head. “Sort of locked around my neck.”

“And in what other way was she holding on to you?”

“She put her legs over me.”

“Do you mean she was straddling you?”

Davin’s jaw grows tight. I know he’s trying to be delicate for my sake, but it would actually be better for everyone if he would just get downright vulgar.

“That’s right,” he says.

Ben nods. “You said that Ms. Beau began kissing you. Were these closed-mouth kisses?” He demonstrates by giving the back of his hand a peck.

Davin’s expression grows stony. “No.”

“So she was attempting open-mouthed kissing?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Now you said before that this type of thing had happened before. Twice before, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And you indicated that when it happened before, you would push her away?”

“That’s right.”

“And is that what you did this time?”

“I tried to.”

“You tried to push her away?

“Yes.”

“Did you succeed?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Like I said, there was always someone else there to help me before, someone to pull her off.”

“So you did
not
succeed, correct?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“And what did she do when you tried to push her away?”

“She got mad.”

“How did you know she was angry?”

“She hit me in the face, cut my cheek pretty good with one of the rings she had on,” he says. He points at his ear. “Gave me a couple good knocks on the side of the head.”

“So even then you were unable to remove her arms from your neck, or her legs from around your waist?”

Davin looks annoyed. “Look, it’s not like being jumped by a guy in a fight, okay? I couldn’t exactly punch her in the mouth, or break her arm or something.”

“I understand, I understand,” says Ben in his soothing voice. “And during this time–from the moment she touched you until the time she struck you on the head–did you ever respond to her open-mouthed kissing?”

“No.”

“What about after that? After you gave up trying to remove her? Did you respond then?”

Davin closes his eyes. I can see what he’s seeing: this is the point of no return, not for any of us. He pulls in a long, slow breath and blows it out.

“Yes. After that I did respond.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Ben’s head jerks backwards on his neck. “You did? Why?”

Davin sighs. “I don’t know.” He stops for a second, thinking. “I guess I figured making out with a girl was better than being beat up by one.”

The courtroom erupts in laughter. Even most of the jurors are chuckling, some of them trying to discreetly hide smiles behind cupped hands.

Ben waits for the tittering to subside before continuing. “Can you tell us what happened after you began responding to the kissing?”

“She, I don’t know, got more persistent.”

“In what way?”

“She put her hands up my shirt, tried to take my shirt off.”

“Was she successful in removing your shirt?”

Davin shifts in the chair. Suddenly, he grimaces, clutching his side where his broken ribs were taped. His face turns red, like he’s holding his breath.

“Do you need a break, Mr. Wibbens?” says Ben with real concern.

Davin waves his hand. “I’m fine.” No doubt he’s trying to reassure, but the words come out in a gasp. His face loses color, turning the shade of biscuit dough.

Ben looks unconvinced. So does the judge. “Mr. Wibbens, it would be perfectly acceptable to take a break,” she says.

“No,” says Davin, his voice steadier now. He pulls his hand away from his side. “I’m fine.”

The judge nods at Ben who looks reluctant at best. He turns back to Davin. “Ah, I believe I was asking if Ms. Beau was successful in removing your shirt?”

“Yes, she was.”

“And how did she accomplish this?”

“She ripped the buttons off the front and pushed it off my shoulders.”

“And at any time did you touch Ms. Beau anywhere on her body in a way that would have led her to think that you were interested in continuing the, uh, encounter?”

“Yes.”

“Where did you touch her?”

“Under her shirt.”

“You touched her breasts?”

“Yes. Well, no. I mean, she had a bra on.”

“You touched her breast through the fabric of her bra, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell us what happened next?”

He sighs. “I pulled her shirt off.”

“Did you remove her bra?”

“No.”

“Okay. And then what happened?”

“I–she–” He stops, turning a little pink. I’m sure he’d look like a Bloody Mary if it weren’t for the fact that he was so ill, his pasty skin diluting the deep red of his blush. “It–it seemed like we were going to get on the floor, like she wanted to get onto the floor.”

“So what did you do?”

“I stood up.”

“You stood up?”

“Yes.”

“Was it then that Ms. Beau released you?”

“No, she was still holding on to me.”

“How was she holding on to you?”

“Her arms were around my neck, and her legs were sort of wrapped around my waist.”

“Were you holding on to her?”

He nods. “So she wouldn’t fall.”

“How were you holding her?”

“I don’t know, just holding her against me, like a hug. Around her back.”

“I see. What happened after you stood up?”

“She was still trying to–she was kissing my neck and stuff.”

“Were you still responding to her in any way?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’d already gone too far.”

“So it was your intention to stop the encounter altogether?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you plan to do this?”

“I don’t know. I was making it up as I went along.”

“And then what did you do? You were standing and holding her?”

“I carried her to her room.”

“To her bedroom?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because when Claire’s like this, she usually goes to sleep once you push her away or someone pulls her off.”

“I thought you said she got angry.”

“Well, she would. But that wouldn’t last long. She’d sort of lash out for a little while and then go to sleep.”

“So you carried her to her bedroom. And then what did you do?”

“I sat on her bed, and then tried to push her off.”

“How did you do this?”

“I grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms off my neck, and then tried to drag her off sideways.”

“Did it work?”

“Sort of. She was still holding on to me with her legs and trying to grab me with her hands again.”

“And then what happened?”

“I got mad at her.”

“Why?”

“Because she bit me. Hard.”

“She bit you? Where?”

Davin points to his shoulder. “Here.”

“Was the skin punctured?”

“Yeah, I’d say it was. There was blood everywhere.”

“You said that you got angry. What did you do?”